


This Cool Night Air Is Curious

by the_genderman



Series: A Brief Summer Squall of an Affair [1]
Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Car Sex, First Time Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Road Head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22501177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: The beginning. Howard. Hank. One late night at work, one car in for repairs, and one offer of a ride home that turned into something so much bigger.
Relationships: Hank Pym/Howard Stark
Series: A Brief Summer Squall of an Affair [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623697
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	This Cool Night Air Is Curious

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Deftones song “Passenger.” Plot kinda a little bit also from “Passenger.”  
> I wanted to use this fic in part to show that, yeah, there’s an age difference/power imbalance, but it wasn’t just Howard acting an aggressor; Hank’s not some naïve lamb. He’s a grown adult who wants Howard and, though maybe he’s a little nervous about it because he didn’t expect Howard to want him back, he’s gonna get what he wants.

The night scenery swept past the car, washed in moonlight, Hank’s window rolled down just enough to let a cool breeze flow in and temper the blood-heat in his skin. The sky sparkled with stars so far out of the city. It would have been a beautiful view if he had been paying it any attention. He sat a little stiffly, a little warily. Hands folded in his lap, briefcase on the floor between his feet, pulse rushing in his ears. Unsure of how to respond. Wondering whether he was being set up or if this was _real_. By God, he _wanted_ it to be real.

\--------

_“Hank Pym, right? You’re one of the new kids—must have quite the work ethic to still be here this late.”_

_“Yeah, funny that.” A little self-deprecating laugh. “I lost track of time in the lab, no windows and all. My car’s still in the shop, so I took the bus here this morning, but I just missed the last one back out. Now it’s either sleep in the break room or give in and call a cab.”_

_“Ooh.” Sucking teeth in sympathy. “Cab fare from this place isn’t cheap. I could give you a ride home, I was just on my way out.”_

_“Oh, thank you, Mr. Stark, but I couldn’t possibly impose on you.”_

_“No trouble at all, really.”_

\---------

“The moment you walked through the doors for your interview, I thought to myself, ‘ _Ah, he’s one of us_.’ When you’ve been around the block as many times as I have, you start to notice the little tells. And some of the _other_ little looks, too,” Howard said to Hank. Casual. Easy. Eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel. His other hand lay comfortably in the middle of the bench seat, inching towards his passenger, intentions clear. “Did you know, or were you just looking to look? Because I understand that, _believe me_ , but I know those eyes. You’re hungry. Like a dog who’s been shown a steak he’s not allowed to have, so he’s just sitting there, drooling and dreaming. So. I gotta ask. You wanna do more than just drool?”

Hank turned his head slowly to look at Howard, trying to keep his breathing steady. Trying to keep the excitement, the _Yes, God, yes, I_ want _it_ , out of his body language. It wouldn’t do to seem too greedy, too needy. Howard had been his idol for a while; one of, if not _the_ most accomplished scientist in the nation. Brilliant, handsome, charismatic, perfectly presentable, but just enough of a reputation as a womanizer, just enough rumors and whispers of debauchery to make him desirable. 

And he _had_ been desired, an unattainable figure, an answer to an ‘ _if you could pick anyone…_ ’ asked in confidence in secret meetings of like-minded individuals. Hank had looked upon him with lust in his heart and between his legs. And here he was, Howard Stark in the flesh, with all the very human desires of the flesh. Closer than life. Reaching out to Hank and asking him _Is this what you want?_

“Yes, please, Mr. Stark, I want that,” Hank said, swallowing down his nerves and excitement, trying to keep his voice firm and steady.

“You don’t have to call me ‘Mr. Stark’—unless you’re into that, of course. If I’m gonna have my hand down your pants, we probably oughtta figure out what you’re gonna call me,” Howard said, laying his hand on Hank’s thigh and petting it conspiratorially.

“Howard it is, then,” Hank said, confidence increasing with every heartbeat. “Yes, I _would_ like that, Howard.”

And then, only the hum of tires on road, quickening breaths, and the whisper of a zipper parting. Hank wriggled in his seat, pushing his pants down and slipping his cock out of his undershorts, half hard already. He placed his hands at his sides, palms on the seat. Howard turned to him with a smirk and a rise of his eyebrows, then his eyes were back on the road. Left hand on the wheel, right hand wrapping around Hank’s cock. Slow, easy strokes to tease him, prime him, get him wanting more. 

Hank dropped his chin and his eyes and watched. He watched Howard’s hand glide over his cock with practiced strokes, watched his arousal grow, watched the precome bead up. He watched the rise and fall of his chest, panting as Howard worked him closer and closer to climax. He watched. He felt his stomach dip and swoop as he gasped and came, watching his cock spurt and drool over Howard’s fingers. He watched, soaking up the scene and committing it to memory. 

“Mmm, how was that? Good?” Howard asked expectantly.

“Yeah, good,” Hank replied breathily, nodding vigorously to compensate for his less than impressive words.

“Good,” Howard said, his voice decidedly smug. “There’s a handkerchief in the glove box, if you wouldn’t mind cleaning us up.”

As Hank gently cleaned his come off of Howard’s hand, stroking the handkerchief teasingly over each finger, an idea bubbled into his mind. His smile broadened. It wasn’t a _good_ idea, but he _liked_ it.

“Hey, Howard?” Hank began. His fingers stilled, holding Howard’s hand in his. He gave it a squeeze.

“Yeah?”

“I wanna blow you.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, right now.”

“Hmm, I’ve heard that’s dangerous.” Howard’s voice belied his words.

“What’s life without a little danger?” Hank asked with a laugh. His eyes darted down to Howard’s groin again, tracing the growing strain and stain against the sleek, expensive fabric of his pants. 

Howard’s eyes went from the road, to Hank, and back to the road. His hand slipped free of Hank’s and moved swiftly to the button of his pants. A little fumbling and he shifted, spread his legs a bit wider, then there he was, bared to the world. Hank licked his lips reflexively. Eagerly. He unbuckled his seatbelt, twisted his body, and braced himself across the front bench. 

It wasn’t comfortable, but he wasn’t looking for comfort. Hank was looking to make an impression, looking to make himself unforgettable. Maybe Howard only did one night stands, he didn’t know. Maybe he’d never get this chance again; if so, he was going to get everything he could out of it. He wanted Howard. He wanted to be able to walk into work every day, see Howard, and have him remember him as more than just the new kid with the little queer tells. He wanted Howard to remember this every time he saw him. Hank moved his free arm to Howard’s lap, wrapped his fingers around Howard’s cock, and leaned in. 

Fabric brushing over fabric, hard zipper teeth biting into soft flesh, muscles and joints not trained in contortion complaining as they stretched and bent. There wasn’t much room to move, but Hank didn’t care. Howard’s cock was in his mouth, tasting of salt and skin and precome. He rolled his tongue around the head, suckling, pumping the shaft with his hand. Howard groaned and cursed and then his hand was on the back of Hank’s neck. Not pushing, not holding, just _there_ , like he was reassuring himself this was really happening. His fingers worked into Hank’s hair, combing slowly and so very gently. Hank felt the tremble in his fingers as he fought to hold focus, hold control of himself and the road.

A grunt, a hard sigh, a flood, hot and bitter on Hank’s tongue. Sudden acceleration. A corrected swerve. Swallow it all down, the come, the adrenaline, the satiated greed. Hank extracted himself from Howard’s lap and sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“How was _that_?” Hank asked, deliberately echoing Howard’s words. “Good?”

A couple beats of silence as Howard caught his breath. He turned his head to Hank with a grin and pointed one firm finger at him. “ _You_. I like you. As Bogart once said, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship”.”


End file.
